Fordee House
by MayaLala
Summary: Chicago 1875 "Jessica, I didn't say this earlier but I hope you know..." he paused to collect his thoughts, "you look, I mean you are...stunning." He reached up, unable to stop his hand from touching her cheek...
1. Chapter 1

**Fordee House**

September 1875

Climbing down from the carriage onto the busy city street, she could hear a newsboy yelling out the afternoon headlines "Gangsters Shoot Copper in Back". Exhausted from her long journey, she paused for only a moment before a tired woman dressed in rags approached begging for a coin. Five days on a train had still not prepared her for sites such as these. She only needed to walk a few more blocks and she would arrive at her new home hoping then she could finally calm her nerves that had been teetering on frazzled since the day she left her old life in Portland.

Staring wide eyed at tall buildings, cringing at the deafening sounds of whistles blowing and vendors shouting their wares, she looked around the busy crowd for a street sign or simply a pair of kind eyes willing to give her directions. Promising her parents she would be back by Christmas if it didn't workout, she gathered the last of her fleeting courage and reminded herself again, she could do this. Pushing her shoulders back while straightening her collar, she said it aloud one more time, "Yes, I can do this."

She was to meet a Miss Cecilia Bodin at The Millanar Shop on 23rd Avenue. The driver handed her a modest carpet bag and she turned with one foot forward, and stepped into the sea of black hats and bonnets that was to be a part of her new life.

The millinar shop window was handsomly decorated with flower strewned straw bonnets and colorful wide brimmed hats with ribbons and feathers. Glancing at the lace glove display, she remembered when she had owned a pair just as beautiful not that long ago. She had decided to forgo frivilous accessories in exchange for a modest travel bag her small frame could carry alone on the dreadfully long journey.

Before opening the front door, she straightened her suit jacket, dusted it off and hoped her simple appearance would be acceptable in this new city. She noticed a handsomly dressed gentleman leaning against the glass smoking a cigarette. His ginger hair reminded her of her Uncle from Scotland although he was not as handsome as this man. Watching from the corner of her eyes as she patted her hair down, she saw him check his pocket watch repeatedly and scan the crowd with hazel eyes.

She entered the quaint hat shop and was immediately relieved that it smelled fragrant from dried flowers and herbs. "May I help you," asked a woman appearing from behind a curtain. She was tall and elegant with high cheekbones and darkened lips. Stunning, the type that men wrote stories about.

"Hello, my name is Jessica Day and I'm supposed to ask for a Miss Cecilia Bodin?"

"I'm Cecilia, what may I help you with?" Eyeing Miss Day's green sturdy wool suit and luggage, she assumed she was not from here. Cecilia saw her hand stitched white collar and recognized it as the variety made out west.

"Yes, I am taking a room at Fordee House and I was told by a Mrs. Patmore that you would show me the entrance?"

Cecilia instantly smiled at the revelation that she would have a new female neighbor. Her own journey to the big city had been softened by the warmth of Mrs. Patmore but she had longed for a friend her age. A woman to tell secrets with and giggle as if they were school girls again.

"Welcome Miss Day, welcome. Would you like a cup of tea before we go upstairs to the house?"

"Oh thank you very much for the offer and I would love to take it up another time, but I am expected for supper and wouldn't want to be tardy on my first day." She smiled gently at the woman hoping she would understand her need to make a good impression upon her arrival.

"Yes, of course, of course," she said patting Jessica's hand gently. "Then perhaps you would like to simply wash up before meeting the other boarders?"

"That would be wonderful Miss Bodin. I would appreciate that very much."

At that Cecilia walked to the front of the shop locking the door as the skirt of her silk dress swooshed rhythmically. Jessica watched as she paused to look out the window in the direction of the ginger haired man. Cecilia's face grew tight with eyes glaring before she turned with a fake smile and led them through the curtain to the back of the shop.

As Jessica washed her hands and face with a soft linen cloth, she asked her new acquaintance if she too roomed at the Fordee House.

"No, I don't. I have a small room in the back but I take evening supper at Mrs. Patmore's. She's a very good cook, and I believe you will enjoy living there."

Jessica sat in front of a mirror attempting to calm the hair she was born with. She untied her green velvet ribbon hoping to pull it back into a softer frame. Cecilia appraoched her with a silver brush.

"May I," she asked cautiously.

The look in her eyes was so sincere that Jessica took no insult to the gesture and simply nodded her head appreciating her kindness. Taking advantage of the brief quiet as Miss Cecilia brushed her curls, she closed her eyes and rested her tired mind. Currently it was still buzzing with train schedules and directions but now she had arrived. She took a cleansing breath and opened her eyes. Her hair now pulled up into a smart chignon with her bangs brushed to the side.

"Oh my Miss Cecilia, you are a master at this."

"Well, it is my pleasure if I can help you in anyway. Here," she said taking a small sprig of lavendar and weaving it into her new style, "a welcome gift, from me."

Jess stared at her reflection in the mirror. She could see the small dark circles under her eyes and her pinched lips. Feeling tears begin to rise from too much travel and too much bravery, she touched her new friend's hand and nodded an understanding thank you.

The smell of home cooking wafted through Fordee House as they climbed red carpeted stairs framed with a glossy wood bannister. Mens' voices carried what sounded like an argument or at least a heated debate.

"No Winston, you cannot tell me that this city cares what happens to the people when they are living on the streets from here to the water?"

Already sitting in a small parlor were three gentleman in sturdy cotton shirts and ties. One was fidgeting with his hair uncomfortable in his seat. Another was holding a rolled up newspaper and beating it against his knee. The last had wavy brown hair and a small book in his hand. He looked angry and tightly wound but his eyes, his chocolate brown eyes, were lonely.

"Good evening gentleman," said Miss Cecilia.

All three immediately stood. The elegant Miss Cecilia dined most nights at Fordee House but tonight they had heard another woman, a New Girl, would be joining them as well.

"Miss Jessica Day, this is Mr. Winston Bishop, Mr. Nicholas Miller and Mr. Remy. They all live on the top floor at Fordee." Raising her eyesbrows she then asked, "Miss Evelyn is late I presume?"

At the mention of Miss Evelyn's name, Mr. Remy's head snapped to attention. "I am sure she will arrive shortly."

Cecilia's lips pursed as she stood silent in the parlor. Her mind apparently deep in thought. The men all stared at their feet. The air grew stagnant with awkward tension.

Jessica, wishing to end the uncomfortable moment, cleared her throat before speaking, "it's nice to meet all of you."

"And to you too Miss Day," said Mr. Bishop.

Mr. Miller gave her a small smile that creeped at the corner of his mouth. His eyes were of a deep brown lined with dark lashes. She felt a blush upon her neck at his handsome gaze but managed to still meet him with a confident smile. Glancing to the dining table, she took a deep breath wondering where to sit in mixed company.

He caught her moment of indecision and walked over to the table holding out the chair next to his own, inviting her to sit. Once she was settled, he returned to his book unable to read the sonnets in front of him. Miss Day, Miss Jessica Day. He turned her name over and over in his mind. He wished suddenly he could run to his room and put pen to paper she had so inspired him with her eyes. They were blue, a magnificent blue. Bluer than any other in the sky.

_Blue and green, like an oasis, a bright oasis in the city, the bright oasis in the barren of the bustling city._

As she sat, a loud slam could be heard from downstairs followed by the sound of heavy shoes on the stairs. Turning her head to see if it was the elusive and missing Miss Evelyn, she was surprised to see a man small in stature entering the parlor quickly with a smile across his face. He appeared quite refined with a freshly felted hat and a black onyx cane in one hand.

"Ladies and gentleman," he bowed gently taking his hat now in hand, "it is my pleasure to dine with you this evening as I am sure it is yours." He walked directly to Miss Cecilia and took her hand in his, kissing the soft skin.

"Miss Cecilia, you know how that color brightens your cheeks to that of a young school girl, do you not?"

"Yes, Avi, I know since you remind me most days of the week." Her eyes looking bored and yet a mischievious smile was upon her lips.

"Just as a peacock wears its colors with pride, a woman with such beauty has nothing to hide." Jessica watched as his eyes stared at her with such bold passion. "What do you think Nicholas, can I now be a poet such as yourself and make hundreds?"

Nicholas frowned shaking his head back and forth. "No, I don't believe that line qualifies you for anything more than a carriage salesman."

Jessica let out a laugh before realising her faux paux then covered her mouth in embarrassment. She stared down at the table until fully recovered, hoping nobody noticed.

Miss Cecilia turned towards Jessica signaling for her to stand, "Mr. Avi Schmidt, I'd like for you to meet the newest boarder at Fordee House, this is Miss Jessica Day from, um, my apologies but where are you from?"

"Oh I'm sorry I didn't say, but I am from the Oregon Territory."

Mr. Schmidt approaching her from across the table, shook her hand firmly, "it's very nice to have another set of beautiful eyes to grace upon us humble gentleman, am I right," he said turning towards the three men at the table.

Jessica could see everyone smiling around her in shared humor and sat back down more comfortable and beginning to relax.

"Avi here owns the building Miss Day and dines here most evenings. He lives only across the street and prefers Mrs. Patmore's food over his own cook's."

"Yes, although I delight in the interesting ensembles Mrs. Campbell creates, she cannot possibly make a rabbit souffle like our dearest Patmore."

As if on cue, a redheaded woman wearing a white cloth bonnet entered the dining area carrying a steaming turrine for the guests. Everyone began to set the table and pass around food in a style more akin to family than Jessica had expected.

"Is this the new boarder," the plump and short cook asked.

"Yes my dearest Patmore, this is Miss Jessica Day from the Oregon Territory," said Mr. Schmidt.

"Well, nice to meet you. Help yourself and I'll show you your room after supper."

"Thank you, that would be wonderful," Jessica said back with a tired smile.

"Has anyone seen Miss Evelyn this evening," Patmore asked.

The group looked at one another until Mr. Schmidt anwered back, "Where is she hiding these days?" He turned towards Mr. Remy and asked "Do you know where she is?"

Jessica could see a sadness in his eyes at the question, "no, no I don't know where she is."

"Well now, Miss Evelyn's sharp wit will be missing from our table this evening."

Jessica watched as Mr. Remy took a deep breath before filling his bowl with soup.

Patmore, looking busy with a flushed face, quietly said to Miss Cecilia "is that man down there again?"

"Yes, I believe so," she answered back.

Feeling the mystery of the missing Miss Evelyn begin to drain her, Jessica turned her attention to dinner. Her stomach growled as she smelled the hot chicken broth cooling in her bowl.

"You must be very tired," Mr. Miller said in a deep lowered voice not heard by the others.

"Yes, I am. It only hit me when I smelled the homecooking, but yes, I am very tired." Moving too quickly to retrieve her spoon from her bowl, she managed to hit the handle just right and launch the utensil across the room.

"Oh my good...," she said loudly fumbling to catch it.

As if his arm was a magnet, Mr. Schmidt grabbed the offending spoon flying through the air with only a slight reach from his position. He had barely moved.

Dumbfounded at her stupidity, she covered her mouth yet again and stared at Mr. Schmidt silently.

"It was nothing," he said handing it back to her just as quickly.

"That was incredible," she said in shock. "Thank you."

He grinned back, "I have the reflexes of a cheetah."

She saw out of the corner of her eye, Mr. Miller rub his face and moan quietly to himself, "Oh my god."

Taking her spoon in hand more carefully now, she began to taste the savory soup. "This is delicious," she said quietly.

"Yes, the food is always good."

Curious about the book sitting next to his plate, she asked, "are you a poet Mr. Miller?"

"Well, I'd like to think of myself as a poet but it's a hard life to sustain."

"How so," she asked dipping her bread.

"Well, you must sell your work in order to live as a poet and in order to sell it, you must print it. I unfortunately never learned the fine art of calligraphy and therefore am handicapped in this arena."

"That's all it takes," she asked curiously.

"Well, that and parchment and a good friend to sell it," he said moving his eyes to Mr. Winston.

"Mr. Miller, I am a teacher. I start in three days time at the New Young Women's Academy. One of the required lessons for all students is to learn the fine art of calligraphy. I would be happy to teach you anytime."

He paused looking down at his bowl, his mouth slightly ajar.

"That would be very kind of you Miss Day," he said softly still staring at his soup.

"Well Mr. Miller, I'm new to this city and will probably need to call upon you for assistance from time to time. Perhaps we can simply trade our knowledge for the benefit of the other."

He smiled now, turning to her again, "I'd be happy to help you. Please don't call me Mr. Miller though. You can call me Nicholas, as my friends do."

"Then if we are friends, you must call me Jessica."

"It's nice to meet you Jessica," he said. "Welcome to Chicago and welcome to Fordee."

-Mayalala

**Thanks for your time everyone. **


	2. Chapter 2

**_Elseven, Captain Crunk & Lady Karinsky...thanks for believing in me. _**

**Fordee House**

October 1875

For weeks now, Jessica had sat with him in the evenings after supper and shown him the whispy strokes of basic calligraphy. While he practiced, they would spend time giggling and teasing one another while sharing stories from their past and present. Sometimes she would screach so loudly at his goofiness that Patmore would look in from the kitchen mothering the two of them into quieter whispers. These evenings had become precious to Nicholas in a way he hadn't seen coming.

Warming his face in the sun during a crisp Autumn day, he carried a package under his arm wrapped and tied with a string. Needing more parchment to work on his lettering, he had left the solace of his dark room and whiskey to venture into the crowded Chicago streets.

Returning to Fordee, he saw him, Mr. James Postwaite. Nicks' hairs stood up on his neck as he eyed the ginger haired man. He was leaning, as he usually was, against the front of Fordee House waiting for Miss Evelyn to emerge or arrive home. His hat pushed forward to shield his eyes from passerbys while he stared down his nose at them.

"Mr. Postwaite, good afternoon," Nicholas said in a clipped tone wishing only to make required niceties to pass by.

He took a long drag on his cigarette and eyed Nicholas closely. "Yes, good afternoon Mr. Miller. I see you are...shopping," he said with a tight smirk.

Nicholas didn't fail to catch his tone and cocked his head towards Mr. Postwaite. With fists tightening and his jaw set, he paused only long enough to remember what his goal had been for the day. The letter Z. Nodding at the pompous ass, he pushed the door open and ran up the carpeted stairs eager to get started.

Now sitting at the table practicing his Z's, he wondered when he would ever need to use such an ornate letter such as this. He scowled at his glass of whiskey and said "I can think of no words in poetry that include this letter. It's a stupid letter."

He heard the door open downstairs and sat up straighter adjusting his tie as he did. Taking a quick swig of the bitter alcohol, he stretched his eyes and ran his tongue over his upper teeth before she came bouncing in carrying her book bag.

"Hello Nicholas," she said with a giant smile.

"Well hello Jessica. What has you in such a good mood this afternoon?"

"Sunshine Nicholas, sunshine," she sang back to him before dropping her bag and coat on the table. She walked closer to survey his current practice pages. "This looks good Nicholas, but the center line needs to be a curve like a ribbon that has twisted."

Her body leaned over his shoulder and he could smell the outside on her clothes.

_The crisp apple scent she bore made autumn the sweetest season she wore. _

"I'm sorry, what do you mean a twisted ribbon," he said trying desperately to keep his attention despite her close proximity.

She pulled out a chair and sat next to him searching the room with her eyes. Finally, reaching up to her own hair, she pulled her blue velvet ribbon freeing her curls from their nest. It fell in wild tendrils around her face causing him to gulp for a quick breath of air.

"Look," she said as she showed him the ribbon. Holding it flat, she then twisted as a demonstration, "see, you need this in the middle." When he didn't answer, she turned to see if he was listening.

He couldn't move his eyes from her face. She was magnificent looking with her hair down. His breath grew deeper as his gaze uncontrollably fell upon her lips. The pause between them was too long but words were gone from his mouth.

Then he heard the voice, deep in his head. Stop...staring...at...her, it said. He blinked several times before finally answering her. "Yes, yes, I understand now."

He returned to his work and attempted to move the pen as she had demonstrated. But still he could not do it. "This is impossible," he yelled throwing his pen onto the table and breaking the tip. "Oh damn," he yelled again.

"You can do it. You just don't want to because it got hard."

"It's ridiculous, I'm never gonna be able to do this right," he said as he took another pen tip from a bag. "It's just impossible."

She squeezed his arm and met his angry eyes head on. "You don't have to be perfect Nicholas but you must try, just try."

Taking a moment to clear his head, he genuinely had no desire to disappoint her so he decided to put his pen to paper one more and try.

"There you go Nicholas. Just keep practicing," she said leaning over to squeeze his shoulder, resting it there while she watched his hand move across the paper.

Both of them were suddenly startled apart when a woman with black feathers in her hair, wearing a dress of similar outcome, walked into the parlor.

"Good evening Miss Evelyn," Jess said noticing her sour mood as she stood putting her coat on.

"Yes, good evening Miss Day, Nicholas," she said nodding at both, hinting at sarcasm.

Jessica had tried in vain to befriend Miss Evelyn for the past month but had always been rebuffed with a curt reply. "You look very nice Miss Evelyn, where are you going?"

"Where I always go Jessica, out." At that she began to turn to exit when Jessica stopped her quickly at the top of the stairs.

"Um Miss Evelyn," said Jessica. "I was wondering if perhaps you would like to accompany me to the tea house on the corner tomorrow afternoon?"

At first it appeared she hadn't heard her and there was a pause before turning her back towards Miss Day. "You're asking me to tea?"

"Yes, I just did. Tomorrow afternoon. Are you available?" Jessica bit at her lip and held her hands together tightly. She hoped that perhaps this one time, it might work.

Appearing flustered as if she couldn't remember where she was, she finally answered "Um, well, I could maybe be available. Yes, yes, um, say 4:00?"

"Wonderful, I'll meet you there," Jessica said watching as Miss Evelyn left through the side door before returning to the table smiling triumphantly.

Nicholas stared at her with a perplexed look on his face.

"What," she asked noticing.

"What are you up to Jessica?"

Smiling mischieviously, "whatever do you mean Mr. Miller?"

"You're up to something, I can tell."

"Well, it's funny that you say that because um, I was wondering if you could possibly meet me at the tea house on the corner at 4:00 tomorrow."

His head sat forward with eyebrows creased in confusion. "why?"

"Because I just asked you. Are you available Mr. Miller?"

"You know I'm available Jessica but why are you inviting both Miss Evelyn and I to tea."

She took a long strand of hair and began wrapping it around her finger, avoiding his eyes. "No particular reason Nicholas. Now lets get back to those Z's."

After dinner that evening, a nice beef stew with biscuits, Jessica pulled Mr. Remy from the group and Nicholas saw her speaking with him in hushed tones in the parlor. His curiousity was more than peeked. Watching from the table, he could see Remy's body stand up straighter and his eyes grow large as Jessica whispered. What is she up to, he thought. Remy shook his head back and forth repeatedly while running a hand through his hair in nervous repetition.

Nicholas, straining to hear part of the conversation caught a bit of Jess's voice "Remy, it'll be just like when we practiced, OK?"

He could see his eyes staring down at Jessica's innocent face which Nicholas felt was very inappropriate given their age difference. His neck heated as he grasped his whiskey tighter, clenching his jaw.

"Ya, I will try Miss Day but I am not as hopeful as you are. That man has a tight hold on her."

"Mr. Remy, is it worth the effort though, shouldn't you try?"

"I will try but, no, you are right," he said.

Jessica touched Mr. Remy's hand, "just take a chance."

Nicholas saw Remy pause and then smile and shake his head in agreement. He then turned and left the parlor, heading up the stairs to his room.

Jessica, feeling eyes on her, turned and stared back at Nicholas, meeting him with that mischievious grin again. His face lit up as she returned to the table, as it usually did. He shook his head letting her know he was aware she was still up to someting.

Not wishing to be teased more, she pulled out a small book from her pocket and handed it over. "Mr. Miller, I brought this from school and thought you might like to read it. It's my favorite story and is very poetically written. Keep it for however long you wish."

Mr. Schmidt, sitting nearby, was busy checking the books Mrs. Patmore kept for Fordee House and overheard. "Oh, Nicholas, she brought you a book. It appears she did not bring one for me though," he said quickly under his breath with a chuckle.

Nicholas saw Jessica's face turn red at his comment and turned towards Avi, staring holes into him. No more words needed to be said and Avi, sensing danger, gathered his items quickly. He left the table but not before he said, "I was just merely pointing out that others read as well. Good night!"

With everyone gone, Nicholas was able to look closer at the small book and read the title out loud. He touched the gold lettering, _Leaves of Grass_. "I'll read it tonight." He paused to say more staring at it, but nothing came except a lump in his chest. She had given him a book. Her favorite book.

She stood holding the back of a chair as if she wanted to say something too. Their eyes settled for a moment before she turned and quietly left the room.

Nicholas, left alone in the room, clenched tightly at her gift. His eyes now shut as he placed the book in his jacket pocke.

At four in the afternoon, Nicholas walked into the English Crumb Tea House on 23rd Avenue and Millstrap. He could smell the flowers and baked goods and wondered how the hell she had ever gotten him into such a place. And then he remembered, she had merely smiled at him. His catnip.

The lace curtains fought against the afternoon sun as group of ladies in feathered hats sipped tea and ate tiny baked things. How did she ever get him to meet her here. Feeling uncomfortable at best, he slapped his face as if to wake himself. A few women near the door gave him sideways glances as he repeated out loud, "I will not drink a tea named after an Earl."

Finding her long neck, he calmed his quickly beating heart then ran fingers through his hatless head before he approached her.

"Good afternoon Miss Jessica," he said smiling as she sat reading a book in a well used wooden chair.

"Good afternoon Mr. Nicholas," she answered back.

He began to take a seat when she grabbed at his hand with a quick, "No, not there, please, sit here."

Looking confused, he stared at the other chairs available. Her eyes softened and she said, "I'm sorry Nicholas but could you sit on this side of me instead."

Looking perplexed but intrigued, he changed seats and found himself between a wallpapered wall and Miss Day. He definitely had no qualms about his new position.

Within fifteen minutes, he had figured it out. Miss Evelyn and Mr. Remy were now positioned on the other side of Jessica with cups of tea and cakes, and it was obvious.

"Miss Evelyn, did you know that Mr. Remy here used to own a repair business the same as your father?"

"Why no, I didn't."

Remy cleared his throat, "yes, I started it after the fires and then sold it to my brother earlier this year."

"Oh, that's very interesting Mr. Remy, I had no idea." She paused to take a sip of her tea. "I came to Chicago after my father passed to settle his business affairs and sold his items at the auction."

He laughed before saying, "I bought all of my tools at the auctions. Wouldn't that be interesting if I worked with your fathers' tools."

Nicholas watched as Remy drank from the petite cups careful to keep his clean shirt and jacket free from drips. He wiped his freshly shaven face and smiled shyly at Miss Evelyn.

Jessica was beside herself with amusement. She turned towards him and smiled as if today was filled with roses and buttercups. "Miss Day, what has gotten into you?"

"Love Nicholas, love has gotten into me," she said just above a whisper.

At the mention of the word, he felt the heat rise to his cheeks and feared he was in danger of panic as well. "What do you mean, love has gotten into you?"

She giggled at his confusion and moved her eyes signaling towards Remy and Miss Evelyn now busy in animated conversation.

"Oh," he said, now fully understanding her meaning. She was happy to see two people enjoying one another's company. "I suppose then that my invitation was to round out this little group?"

"Yes," she beamed back. "I needed someone to distract me so that others would be forced to speak."

She winked at him with a smile that didn't quite work. He laughed at her attempt that resembled a bug in the eye more than a flirtatious nod. Leaning closer to her so others could not hear, he said, "do I distract you Miss Day?"

Her face flushed as she giggled, smoothing out the napkin on her lap.

Feeling a need to change subjects as they began to tread on dangerous ground he asked, "Miss Jessica, how was school today?"

"Well, it was the same as yesterday and the same as the day before that."

He chuckled to himself now. She never failed to make him laugh. He couldn't remember another time in his life that he smiled so much.

"And you Nicholas. How was your day with the calligraphy?"

"Well, it appears I will never master it in time for the Christmas rush."

"What is the Christmas rush to a poet Nicholas?"

"It's the time I sell copies of my poetry to people wishing to buy a gift for Christmas. Winston sells them for me after a calligrapher prints them."

"Ah, so that is how it is done. I was curious," she said as she wiped crumbs from her mouth.

He liked the idea that she thought about him at all.

They both turned to listen to the much livelier conversation beetween Remy and Miss Evelyn. He was telling her a story about a carriage of whiskey he had been delivering a long time ago. He had driven it too fast over a bump in the road, breaking two of the bottles. Worried he would lose the commission for delivery, he felt compelled to consume the drink so as not to waste their contents. By the time he made his delivery, he was half asleep at the helm and the owner yelled for half an hour, unbeknownst to a very drunk Remy. Evelyn laughed at the story, touching Remy's shoulder as she did.

Nicholas saw Jessica turn her head away from the couple and smile, a quick moment of pride shown. It had never occurred to him that Mr. Remy had feelings for anyone, let alone Miss Evelyn. Jessica had known though and had once again, brought her sunshine into another person's life.

-Mayalala


	3. Chapter 3

**Fordee House**

November 1875

Jessica sat impatiently in the headmaster's office staring out the window at the last of the bright orange and yellow leaves. Trying to calm her nerves, she let her mind wander to her friend with the chocolate brown eyes. A smile ran across her face as she remembered the bag of candies he had brought her just yesterday. Butterscotches she had shared after dinner while he taught her a new card game called True American. Their time together was easy, simple, and she had begun to look forward to it everyday. Shaking her head at the memories, she refocused her thoughts back to the task at hand, her meeting with the headmaster.

"Ah, Miss Day, you were waiting for me. Apologies." He motioned for her to take a seat as he himself sat behind a booming desk with heavily carved legs.

She tapped her thumbs nervously while waiting for him to organize the papers in his hand. Finally, unable to wait any longer, she said, "Mr Fancy, I need to speak to you about a student here by the name of Caroline Bingley."

"Yes, she arrived here just this week, I remember. Very affluent family from England I believe."

"She has been assigned to several of my classes and thus far proves quite accomplished. Impressive. Socially though, she is not."

"How so Miss Day," he asked, leaning over his desk with blue eyes and a confusing smile.

Yes, Russell Fancy was a handsome man. Every female at the school was aware of it. He worked tirelessly to improve the quality for the young women in every way he could. This dedication and his chiseled chin caused Jessica to feel a bit lightheaded a few times when he had stood nearer to her than she was accustomed to.

Feeling flustered from gazing at his eyes she managed to stammer back, "Yes, well, um, Caroline Bingley, she is, well how shall I put it...mean."

He smiled at her description while staring down at his hands. "Is that all she is?"

"Well, I believe that she is spreading viscious gossip amongst the girls."

"Gossip!" He held back a laugh so as not to offend her.

"Yes, I believe she's causing problems at the Academy that could one day lead to scandal if not handled soon," Her tone had changed and she realized she sounded defensive now. Calming herself before she spoke again, she said, "Mr. Fancy, I only want to make sure that the self confidence of these young women stays in tact during these formidable years. I believe my job as a teacher is to translate the prescribed subjects but also to provide guidance to the needs of growing young women as they enter adulthood."

She saw his eyes change from that of a mocking tone to one that was more sincere and warmer. "Thank you Miss Day. Your dedication is commendable. My apologies for not understanding fully your intentions. I will speak to her parents myself and see if there is anything we can do to help guide Miss Bingley into our Academy policies smoother."

"Fine, that is all that I am asking," she said in a clipped tone still feeling defensive.

Caught somewhat off guard he answered back while now standing, "yes, of course, I didn't mean any offense. Thank you very much Miss Day for bringing this to my attention." He watched as she too stood up to leave before he stopped her with a question. "Miss Day, will you be attending the charity auction on Friday?"

"I had planned to, why?"

"No reason, I simply was hoping to see you outside of the school sometime, without discussion of gossip or school girls."

He shot her one of his Fancy smiles and it had worked. She blushed a deep red to her cheeks before biting her bottom lip. Taking a swallow to gain some composure, she managed to squeek out a barely audible "yes, that sounds nice", before spinning towards the door. She ran out of his office then threw her hands over her face once out of view.

Jessica bolted through the curtained partition in Miss Cecilia's milinar shop and found her friend pinning a bouquet of roses and herbs to a black wide brimmed hat. "Cecilia, I just acted a fool," she said out of breath. "Why must I do this!"

Cecilia had become accustomed to these dramatic displays from her friend from time to time and simply smiled while continuing her creation. "What did you do Jessica?"

"It's Mr. Fancy, the headmaster. We were having a meeting and I realized suddenly that he was, he was...then he mentioned this auction and how much he'd like to see me there and then well, I ran like a scared school girl." She blushed at the memory again. "Cecilia, why can't I be, I don't know, more demure?" She plopped down on the padded fitting chair and leaned over to hide her face in her folded arms.

"Do you need to be Jessica? Are you interested in Mr. Fancy?"

She pondered this thought before sitting up to answer. "Well, he's handsome. He's very dedicated to the welfare of the school. Confident, too confident sometimes. Wouldn't you be interested? Shouldn't I be interested?"

"It doesn't matter what I think, what do you think?"

Jessica picked up some of the dried roses and twirled them in her fingers thinking about his chiseled chin and piercing blue eyes. Was she interested in Mr. Fancy or was she just flattered? He made her nervous to be sure. Did he make her laugh and smile though? That she didn't know. Only one man she could think of did that and he was presently upstairs waiting for her to come home, as he did most afternoons.

Nicholas Miller. Her thoughts seemed to end up with him more and more as each day passed. She had even begun to wonder if perhaps the feelings were mutual. There was something beginning to linger between them. She could feel it in his eyes when they would lock onto hers, her heart would race in anticipation. But that was ridiculous. Nicholas Miller was her friend and to think of him as anything more was very inappropriate.

"I don't know Cecilia. I'm not sure I know Mr. Fancy enough to say whether I am interested."

"Maybe you should find out."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean maybe you should spend more time with him. Find out if he's someone you're interested in. Someone that you can sit and talk too for hours on end, reading and laughing. Like you do with Nicholas every night."

Jessica's head turned abruptly from the table to meet her friends' eyes. Was she a mind reader? Did she know she was thinking of Nicholas just then? Her friend instead simply wrapped black ribbon around the brimmed hat in her hands.

"Jessica?"

"Don't be silly Cecilia. We're just friends."

"If that's true then why are you blushing right now?"

Jessica touched her cheeks, cooling them with her fingers. She wasn't ready to talk about this with Cecilia or anyone else. If anything, she just needed to spend some time alone with her thoughts. Maybe then she could figure out why Nicholas kept ending up in them.

Nicholas sat at the table on Friday night drinking his whiskey and reading the book Jessica had given him. He had noticed she had escaped after dinner up to her room. Dissappointed, he sat reading, hoping she would return. Avi and Cecilia sat at the other end of the table discussing textiles or plummeting stock prices, either of which bored him.

She walked into the parlor just as he was pouring another finger of whiskey. He spilled most of it as he stared at Jessica, dumbstruck. He had never seen her dressed like this before with lips darkened and curls spilling around her shoulders. Her deep scarlet gown exposed her flawless shoulders and Nicholas was instantly enchanted.

Avi, now grinning at his friend's demise, leaned over to Nicholas, "you're spilling your whiskey."

"Oh god," he said lifting the bottle and pounding the table loudly as he grabbed for his napkin to clean the mess. "What a fool I am," he mumbled under his breath. Yet still, he couldn't stop his eyes from drinking her in, all of her. She was a vision.

"Miss Jessica," said Avi walking towards her. "What a sight you are this evening, ravishing, just ravishing." He took her hand in his and kissed it.

Cecilia stood, beaming at her protege. "You look beautiful friend. Your hair looks wonderful pulled back like that."

Jessica blushed and fidgeted with her dress feeling uncomfortable at the sudden attention. She looked over Avi's shoulder wishing to hear from Nicholas. He stared at her with his jaw tight but seemed paralyzed. Apparently he had no plans to say a thing to her. Disappointed, she continually fidgeted with her hands not knowing what she should do now. "Well, I guess I'll go."

"Let me walk you there Ms. Day. A woman dressed as you should never be unaccompanied through the city at night. Any crazed man could simply whisk you away," he laughed. Turning to look at a silent Nicholas, he said, "am I right?"

Hearing Avi's voice pulled him from his fog. "No, no Avi, I can walk her. I could use some fresh air right now." At that, he stood up and walked over to her while wrapping his scarf around his neck. "Would that be OK Miss Day, if I walked you to your, to your, um event?"

Her face perked up, relaxing at the edges as he approached her. "Why yes Mr. Miller, I would like that very much." He retrieved her coat then held out his arm for her to take. Barely able to look at her, they left the parlor while Avi and Cecilia watched from behind. They watched as Nicholas squeezed his one free hand tightly over and over again until they were out the door.

"No, she doesn't want you here anymore," was the first thing they both heard as they left Fordee. Waiting for their eyes to adjust to the dark, Jessica was first to see Mr. Remy speaking to the ever scowling Postwaite, who, as usual, was leaning against Cecilia's front window.

She saw his cigarette burning through the dark lighting up his eyes, his menacing eyes.

"I think Evelyn can speak for herself," he said back to Remy, closing in on his eyes.

"Mr. Postwaite, I am asking you as a gentleman to leave Miss Evelyn alone. She is done spending time with you."

Nick, sensing the tension shift, let go of Jessica's arm and motioned for her to stay where she was. He approached the men cautiously, asking, "is everything OK here?"

Mr. Postwaite stood up taller, two men now speaking to him. "Yes, everything is just fine. Just fine indeed."

"Great, so we all have an understanding now, correct?" Nicholas crossed his arms in front, now standing firm next to Remy. "Postwaite, I'm thinking that you wouldn't want to push yourself on a lady, am I correct?"

At the mention of the word lady, he chuckled and tipped his hat back. "No, no I wouldn't want to with a _lady_." He turned to leave but paused in front of Remy for just a moment. "You can have her, she's nothing to me."

"With pleasure," Remy replied with a smile. He ran his hands through his hair repeatedly taking a deeper breath when he saw the ginger haired man finally turn around the corner.

Jessica ran to hug Remy, "that was incredible what you did for Miss Evelyn."

"Yes, Remy, are you OK," Nicholas asked.

"I believe I am now," he said. "I believe I will be."

"Yes, of course," Nicholas replied reaching to shake hands with Remy. "Well done."

They both watched as Remy returned to the warmth of Fordee before arm in arm again, they headed out for into the evening.

The air was chilly as if snow was coming soon. Jessica held on tightly as they passed families and couples out for a stroll before winter took hold of the Chicago streets. People smiled at the two of them, tipping hats or saying a casual "good evening." She felt overjoyed by the boldness of their stroll, of being out with Nicholas.

He could see from the eyes of passerbys that they noticed how beautiful his walking companion was and he felt proud. He guided her in and out of crowds and eventually even around a frisky horse tied to a lampost.

"Hey there Mr. Gelding," he said ducking while it tried to nip at his hatless head.

Jessica laughed watching Nicholas stare down at the horse as it bared its teeth back grabbing again for his curls.

Her laughter grew and only encouraged him to put up his hands as if to box with it. "You don't want to mess with me," he yelled at the horse." Laughing at himself now, shaking his head at what a fool he was. "That animal would have lost that match, most definitely."

"And you would have saved my honor, I guess, from a horse."

He turned to her then, stopping under the street light. She looked cold with her pink nose and lips trembling. He stood entranced, simply staring at her magnificent face.

_No words could speak her beauty, no force could move my sight, for in this  
chilled darkness, I'm entranced by Day's light_.

The tension beetween them grew more serious as she once again, felt her eyes lock on his. Her heart was speeding at a ridiculous pace and her thoughts were scattered at what to say or do next.

"Jessica, I didn't say this earlier but I hope you know..." he paused to collect his thoughts, "you are, I mean you look, stunning this evening." He reached up, unable to stop his hand from touching her.

She felt his fingers on her cheek brush softly against her skin. A shudder rose up her back and a heat flushed under his touch. His eyes piercing through her until her legs felt weak and time felt lost.

The sound of approaching footsteps abruptly ended the moment. Both of them turning towards a couple strolling as well. They hesitantly began to walk, both caught in their own thoughts with neither knowing what to do next.

After a few blocks of silence, he finally asked "Where are you going this evening Jessica?"

"It's a charity auction for the school. I thought I had told you about it."

"No, I would have remembered."

As they approached the school, he could see people wearing formal attire walking into a gas lamp lined entrance. There were flowers near the door and inside he could see a crowd of people gathered.

"Well, it looks beautiful. I hope you have a wonderful evening Jessica."

She stared shyly up at him, noticing how he continued to readjust his tie. He was nervous. Not knowing what was appropriate she merely touched his hand at his side and squeezed it, "thank you Nicholas, for the walk tonight, thank you."

"How will you get home?" It had suddenly occurred to him that she couldn't possibly walk home later in the evening, alone.

"I'll take her home," said a man Nicholas had never met before. He was dressed in a dark wool tux and was smiling at Jessica in a way that Nicholas did not care for, one bit. "Good evening Miss Day," he said lifting her hand to his lips. "You look incredibly beautiful, as I knew you would."

Nicholas watched as Jessica pulled her neck up higher and fidgeted with her dress again at an alarming rate. He also began to feel a low grade panic in his gut watching the scene unfold.

"Hello sir, I'm Russell Fancy." He put his hand out for Nicholas to shake.

"Nicholas Miller, nice to meet you." Peering closely into Mr. Fancys' eyes, he saw it. Just a flicker, a moment held between two men. He had intentions towards Jessica and now Nicholas knew why she had worn that dress tonight. It was for this Russell character.

"Mr. Fancy, this is my good friend Nicholas Miller. He lives at the same boarding house I do. He's a poet, a very talented one."

"Oh, an art man. I always wished I could spend time on art but alas, I am destined to help others instead." He smiled at Nicholas in a way a cat smiles before it lazily swats you with its claw.

Returning to Jessica's face, he said, "thank you Miss Day but I'm hardly that good." Her glassy eyes stared at the man in the sharp suit. The moment was beginning to break him and he feared he didn't have many words left to say. "I need to get going now. You'll make sure Miss Day gets home safely then?"

"To be sure Mr. Miller. She will be in good hands."

"Well then, I'll take my leave." He nodded at Jessica, not waiting long enough to see her smile turn to loss before he walked away quickly. She watched him, confusion in her eyes at his abrupt departure, but he never saw it. Instead he only felt a cold wind blow through his hair and dried leaves crunch under his feet. Feeling an emptiness now in his heart he fought back the waves with words and turned just in time to see her take Mr. Fancy's arm and walk into the party.

_So must the falls subside to winters,_

_So must the days to dusks,_

_My hope for her has fallen to splinters_

_My chances with Day, to dust._


	4. Chapter 4

**Fordee House**

December 1875

Christmas had hit Fordee House the day Avi Schmidt brought a nine foot conifer tree up the carpeted stairs announcing it was time for tinsel.

"Mrs. Patmore, bring out the ornaments. This Jewish boy is ready for the holidays!"

Household members trickled out of their rooms one by one to see what all of the commotion was about. Remy came out in a crisp white button up and a bit less of his pronounced mid section.

"Mr. Remy, it's so good to see you. You're looking dapper today, how are you?" Avi, not waiting for an answer, motioned for the quiet man to help him move furniture in the parlor. He wished for the tree to sit in the center of the room, framed by paislied couches.

"Nice tree you got there Avi," Remy said as they stood back and admired it in front of the fogged front window blocking the snowstorm outside.

"Yes, I do believe it is the perfect one for this sized room," Avi said, smiling at his choice. Hearing more footsteps, he turned in time to see a tired eyed Jessica shuffle in with a yawn. "Jessica, it's time, can you feel it? It's time to fill the house with cheer. Don't you think?"

She had spent most of the week restless, consumed actually with thoughts of her own home out west. Her heart was heavy these days thinking about her life in Chicago versus her life in Portland. Her parents had recently sent her a letter asking if she had planned to stay at her current teaching position past Christmas. She had yet to answer them. She had yet to make a decision.

The tree, now sitting prominantly in their parlor, brought her back to the forests of the Oregon terrirory. The smell of pine pitch and Patmore's baking uplifted her spirits and excited her for the first time since the night of the auction. Maybe it was time to get into the Christmas spirit. "Yes Avi, I do believe it's time to start."

Mrs. Patmore came up the stairs carrying a large basket of greens and flowers. She looked overworked as usual and seemed burdened by Avi's continued gleefulness.

"Miss Day, these came for you," Mrs. Patmore said huffing as she handed a large basket to Jessica.

"For me, what do you mean?"

Miss Evelyn walked in with a smile on her face, glancing at Mr. Remy before asking, "Jessica, those are lovely, who are they from?"

"Her name is on the card, I just picked them up by the door," said Mrs. Patmore throwing her hands up in the air before heading back to the kitchen.

Jessica reached down for the note scrolled with her name, fully aware who had sent them. She opened the envelope quickly, then hid it in her pocket offering no explanation to the prying eyes.

"Oh yes, Mrs. Patmore, our tree decoration box," said Avi taking the crate overflowing with burlap and linen fabric from the cooks' arms.

"Avi, are these your ornaments or Mrs. Patmore's," Jessica asked opening bags with glass figurines and nutcrackers.

"They belong to everyone at Fordee. Some have been in there for years, like guests."

Jessica unwrapped a beautiful handpainted egg. It was fragile and red in color with gold embossing. "Avi, this is beautiful. I've never seen anything like it."

"That was from my mother," said Nicholas from behind her.

She turned to see him walking into the parlor, his sad eyes looking at the painted egg in her hand. "She was from the Ukraine and her famly had taught her how to paint these for Easter. They're called Pysanky eggs. She made them for Christmas and sold them to neighbors for extra gift money. This one she gave me before she died. It's the only Christmas decoration I have."

Jessica stood there silently with the others at the mentioning of his mother. "It's beautiful Nicholas."

He looked at her for the first time in weeks. He had avoided her since the night of the auction minus supper most evenings. Choosing to eat quickly and return to his room, it had been much too painful to look into her eyes, until now. He chanced at a gaze, getting temporarily caught in her sea of blue.

She had known the moment she saw his hurt face the night of the auction that she had no feelings for Russell Fancy. He could never make her feel the way Nicholas did with such a simple gesture as a touch to her cheek. Since then he had avoided her and she had no idea what to do to remedy it. She sat every night at the table reading, hoping he would simply come and sit near her like they used to. Walking to him now, she opened his ink stained fingers, gently placing the ornament in his hands.

"Wait," he whispered. "I want to show you something." He held it up to her eyes, "this is the house I grew up in, here in Chicago. It burned up in the fire but here it is."

Jessica's face lit up as she saw the brick house with a boy running in the street. The delicate features must have been painted with a single horse hair. "That is the tiniest picture I've ever seen."

"That's the point."

Nick was standing so close to her right then, he merely needed to move his head slightly to touch her cheek with his lips. He took in a deep breath of her, feeling the familiar lump return to his chest, hanging him in suspension.

"Mr. Miller, Mr. Miller, Nicholas Miller," said Winston entering the parlor with a cocky swagger. "Do I have a gift for you."

Nicholas, happy to have a distraction from his current thoughts, turned to his oldest friend, "what gift do you have Winston?"

"I sold all of your poems to Clyde's bookstore on 7th Avenue," he said. Handing his friend a wad of notes he didn't notice the confusion wash over his face.

"What do you mean, you sold my poems. What poems Winston?"

"Why the ones that Miss Day here gave me last week. She had said you wanted me to sell them for you. Is that not true Miss Day?"

Both gentleman now were staring at the back of a very embarrassed Jessica Day.

Without turning, she ignored them, searching her brain for a logical answer and pretended to sort decorations on a table.

"Jessica," Nicholas repeated. "What did you sell?"

She reached up and hung a glass ball on the tree, "um, just as he said, copies of a poem."

Nicholas scratched his head trying to figure out what poem she could have sold. He hadn't had any printed up this season since he had spent so much of his time trying to learn the art of calligraphy. "What poem are you talking about?"

She finally turned. He could see her neck was drooped as if a scolded dog.

"I'm sorry Nicholas. I have probably overstepped my boundaries. I found one of your poems on the table when I came home from school. It was beautiful, about a man falling into an oasis. Remembering what you had told me about selling your poems during the holidays, I knew you needed them printed in calligraphy to sell. So that's what I did. I simply wrote them out and gave a stack to Winston to sell in town if he could. And he did." She nodded at Winston. "Thank you."

Winston, now feeling the tension of the moment, excused himself to speak with Avi.

Nicholas stood, staring at her, daring her to glance into his eyes. She had taken his poem, intruded on his private thoughts. "Jessica, why would you do such a thing?"

"Um, I just thought it was so easy for me to simply print them for you," she said avoiding his look by hanging a knit bear on a branch.

He stared down at his hand, a small fortune crumpled in his fingers. Why did she do this, why that poem? He was torn between his anger and his want. She so often paralyzed his thoughts, his movements, his dreams. It was impossible for him to be rational with her so near. He wanted to yell at her and kiss her. He felt as though he would come undone.

Jessica felt the shame of her intrusion as she lined up brass St. Nicks and paper snowmen along the table near the tree. Her eyes filling with tears, she realized her mistake and scolded herself. Why Jessica, why must you overstep your boundaries?

Cece came up the stairs just then looking down at the flowers sitting in a basket, "Oh how lovely, who are those from?"

"A man sent them to Jessica but she won't tell us who," Avi said with a chuckle.

Jessica felt the heat bloom across her face and she looked up delicately to see Nickolas's reaction. She only caught the back of him as he turned and disappeared from the room.

Miss Evelyn, watching the drama unfold, whispered in Jessica's ear, "the mention of Mr. Fancy again will surely break him into pieces." She patted Jessica's hand kindly and picked up a red glass ball to hang from the tree.

**-Mayalala**


	5. Chapter 5

**The Final Chapter**

**Fordee House**

Christmas 1875

For days after, they avoided one another. They sat at opposite ends of the table and never crossed paths. They would eat quietly at dinner, both listening to the others tell stories of Christmas parties and shopping for the season, neither looking up from their plates.

Jessica felt ashamed. Heartbroken even. She had lost her friend, a close friend at that. Why had she misstepped so boldly?

She spent most of her time in her room working on gifts for the other guests at Fordee. Despite her sadness, she did take comfort in the simple job of gift making. For Winston, she painted a small picture of a field of daisies, his favorite flower as it was. "Always underappreciated," he would say when talk of flowers was broached. For Remy and Miss Evelyn, a handstitched cushion for the new basement apartment they would be moving into once they were married on New Year's Eve. For Mrs. Patmore, she had made a special blend of tea she had named Downton after her tabby cat, always napping near her stove. Cecilia and Avi she made the same gift, silk caches filled with lavendar and rosemary.

She had bought Nicholas his gift. It was an extravagant purchase but she felt such remorse at her actions that she was compelled to go beyond the normal realms of friendship gifts. Perhaps it was a peace offering. Her parent's letter still sat unanswered on her desk. For some reason when she thought of answering it, she thought only of Nicholas. She had to somehow make it right with him before she could think of Portland vs. Chicago.

Christmas Eve was approaching and Nicholas was in his room again, hiding. He sat at his desk with a whiskey bottle and glass, sipping at the alcohol as he pictured her eyes again, her eyes, so blue. He felt tortured inside when he thought of them. He had never known a woman like her since his own mother. Her laugh was infectious and her smile stopped him in his tracks. How was he to continue living so near her?

He hadn't heard mention of Russell Fancy since the night of the auction but had assumed she was still devoted to him. Seeing the flowers he had sent her was simply a nail in his coffin. Who was he but a poor poet? Well, currently a cash rich poet but nonetheless, usually a struggling drunk poet. He was nothing next to a man like Fancy.

Looking over at his closest friend, a bottle of Tran Whiskey, he asked it, like most nights...what do I do? He shook his head, tightening his lids shut and simply breathed. It was beginning to be too painful to be so near her and yet, not speak. For hours they used to sit at the table and talk about their families and adventures. Some nights he would teach her card tricks and others she would read aloud from a book of sonnets. He would do anything now to simply be that friend again. But something had changed and now they were stuck in another place. One that he simply didn't know how to improve.

Christmas Eve arrived and the smell of baking wafted through Fordee as well as Mrs. Patmore's voice singing Christmas carols. At suppertime, everyone gathered around the table standing behind their seats. It had been set with the house finery, silver and china, gleaming amongst sugared fruit and small bouquets of garden greenery. Tapered candles burned vanilla scents in the air and wine had been decanted from Avi's personal cellar. It was a sight to be beholden for all of the members of Fordee.

Stuffed cornish game hens with herbed potatoes, trays of cakes and tarts were all passed around the table of members dressed in their finest clothes. Grace was said by Winston, followed by a quick moment of silence to remember their loved ones far and gone.

Jessica took that moment to chance a look at Nicholas. Surprised, she found his eyes upon her. Heavily upon her. They made her heart race with emotions and she wanted to spill the tears hiding under the surface. Her lip trembled and the longing she felt for him was painful and distinct.

He looked at her, deeply looked at her. She did not appear a woman happily in love with another. She looked tired and restless. Sad. It took everything in him to not stand up and walk across the room and take her in his arms as he had that night they walked arm in arm. He wanted to apologize for abandoning their friendship. He wanted to thank her for all that she had done for him. His life hadn't been the same since she walked into it and he needed her to know that.

She watched as his eyes softly changed. He smiled the tiniest of smiles. It was almost unnoticeable except Jessica knew him. She had spent hours at the table telling intimate stories of her life, looking into those eyes. It was there, a small turn of his lips. He was trying to break them free of the vice grip they were stuck in. And now, suddenly, she felt hope.

After dinner, gift exchanges had begun. Winston, quite touched by his daisy painting, thanked Miss Day for noticing his fondness for the flower. He gave her a book in return about the history of the Chicago fires.

Remy and Evelyn sat together on a couch with a pile of parcels for their new home. Miss Evelyn approached Jessica with a package in her hand that she handed over.

"Miss Evelyn, you didn't need to."

"I believe I did Miss Day."

Opening the box, she found inside a pair of exquisite lace gloves. "How beautiful," she said inhaling a sharp breath. "Miss Evelyn, I'm so touched."

"I noticed you didn't have any and I thought that maybe you would have an opportunity to wear them soon."

"I will wear them to your wedding, with pleasure."

"Miss Day, I wouldn't be having a wedding if it wasn't for you. I owe you my happiness." She glanced at her Remy, eyes glistening as he returned her smile.

"I am so happy for you two Miss Evelyn. Truly, I am so happy."

"Miss Day, the holidays are a time for loved ones, do you not agree?"

"Yes, I have been thinking of this myself. They are. Yes, indeed."

"May I return the favor then," Miss Evelyn said.

Jessica looked confused, what favor was she being granted? She looked at the woman, searching for a clue.

"It's time Jessica, it's time to make things right with him." They both looked over at Nicholas just then, opening a gift from Mrs. Patmore, a new knit scarf.

She knew what Miss Evelyn was speaking of. She had put it off long enough. Nicholas. Nodding, understanding what needed to happen she bolstered herself up and cleard her mind.

Jessica took out a package from her bag and sat next to Nicholas while the others were busy talking. Her hands were shaking but she felt more hopeful since their exchange at dinner. Maybe she could get through this evening without wanting to rush to the train station with her bags packed, and run home to the safety of her parents.

"Merry Christmas Nicholas," she said quietly, handing over the box to his stained hands.

He opened it slowly, with a smile washing over his face as he pulled out a wool cap. It wasn't pretentious or formal, simply a beige tweed with a brim to keep his head warm in the cold Chicago wind. "Jessica, I haven't owned a hat in a very long time."

"I noticed," she said, turning her head to the side to gaze at his handsome face. Her heart filled with warmth for this man, as no man had ever before. She took the hat from his hands and lifted it onto his head, pulling and pinching here and there.

He stared into her eyes while she adjusted and readjusted it. Ecstatic she was so close to him. Her lashes were long like those of a doll. Her face seemed flushed and she smelled like flowers and clean and rain.

Finally, she said, "there, quite acceptable Nicholas."

He chuckled to himself, happy to return to their casual flirtation.

"Nicholas."

"Yes Jessica," he said almost in a whisper.

"I wanted to say that I'm so very sorry I took your poem. Everyday I have wished I could change what I did but I am deeply ashamed I took it upon myself to do such a thing." She looked up at his face, hoping he would forgive her. Instead she found him simply smiling back at her, his eyes as they always were.

"I have a gift for you." From inside his jacket, he pulled out a small box with blue velvet ribbon wrapped around it.

Nervously she took it, feeling its weight in her hand. Holding a deep breath she opened it to find a heavy silver calligraphy pen. Her mouth agape, "Nicholas, this is so beautiful. I've never...never owned anything so exquisite." Turning it over in her hand, the shiny silver gleaming in the light, she found an inscription along the edge.

_Entranced by the cool blue haven my bewitched body and soul_

_All my love, Nicholas_

She recognized the passage from his poem. The one she had found on the table and copied to sell. She sat in silence for a moment, the gravity of the gift sinking in.

"I wrote that poem Jessica, the night I met you. It is about you." She had bewitched him and he would do anything now to spend his life caught up in her cool blue haven. "It's everything I feel for you."

Attempting to swallow down what her heart wanted to feel, she pulled her chin to her chest and let drop a few solitary tears. The poem she had written over and over again he had written about her and she never knew. It was etched in her memory, every last word.

_The bright oasis in the barr'n_

_Of this bustling city call_

_And I, taken by this soft siren_

_Feel myself begin to fall._

_Entranced by the cool blue haven_

_My bewitched body and soul_

_Seeks solace in her hair of raven_

_To make my heart again a whole._

_While I am not a man to string_

_My hopes up on harebrained dreams_

_The aria I heard the oasis sing_

_Has promise bursting from my seams._

_I've spent too long embattled in gray;_

_The time has come to embrace the Day._

His heart so desperately needed to touch her. He chanced it and laid his hand upon hers.

She gripped it tightly and for a moment, their eyes locked on one another as if the world darkened and the only light was between them. He tried to convey with that single stare all that he felt and all that he wanted to say. The waves of emotions were too much to share and he hoped she understood.

She dried her eyes with her sleeve, now giddy from released emotions. She giggled out loud with wet lashes and a smile only for him. Her lips released a held in breath. "Thank you Nicholas, thank you so much. Nobody has ever given me such a gift as this."

He was glad now for his purchase. To see her so happy. Still though, he didn't know if it had been appropriate given her feelings for Russell Fancy. He needed to know. Once and for all he needed to know if what he had seen in her eyes was correct and she was not in love with Fancy.

"Miss Day, may I inquire about whether you will be spending Christmas Day with another?"

She knew what he was asking. Miss Evelyn had been correct. "Nicholas, there is no other I think about or would agree to spend Christmas with. I wish only to be here, right here, with you." More tears spilled from her eyes but they weren't from a broken heart but instead from a full one.

He tightened his grip on her hand, bringing it to his lips. He kissed the delicate skin, lingering, hoping she knew how much she meant to him. At this very moment.

She handed him another gift, smaller than the other. "It's very delicate, so open it carefully."

Sitting up straighter in his seat, he untied the ribbon and opened a small box. She leaned over his arm and picked it up delicately. It was an egg, a painted egg.

"It's a Pysanky, like your mother used to make but not as good, obviously." She held it up for him to see. "I wanted you to have another."

He turned her hand for better light and that's when he saw it. Fordee House, right there, painted on a perfect egg shell. He turned and twisted it, blue like her eyes. Never would he forget this Christmas.

"Jessica," he said, choking on her name. "I've never, I," he babbled until finally giving up. He shook his head, laughing at it all.

They put their gifts down, and openly held one another's hands. His were warm and strong, hers gentle and soft. Neither caring who saw, feeling safe in their home.

She turned towards the other guests. Avi laughing with Cecilia, admiring the earrings he had given her. Winston wrapping his new scarf from Mrs. Patmore around his neck. Remy with his arm around Miss Evelyn, both of them sitting happy together.

It had been four months since she had come across the country on train. Scared at the time she would be lonely without family and friends. Now she sat in a parlor with a Christmas tree, surrounded by friends that felt like family and a heart filled with love. She felt her hand squeezed bringing her attention back to his face. He held her gaze and her hand against his chest,

"Merry Christmas Jessica."

**-Mayalala**

**I must thank Elseven, Lady Karinsky and Captain Crunk for watching my back, writing the poetry and kicking my ass when it was necessary. They deserve kudos, reviews and super magic high fives. Thank you friends. **


End file.
